d by a door, which was of course
closed and fastened.

The emaciated child and anxious mother presented a sight that fixed
itself upon my mind, and excited my liveliest sympathies. I could
not get them from my thoughts.

About ten o'clock that night, I took a candle and went to my room.
Before undressing myself, I sat down at a table to make some entries
of collections and expenses, and to think over and arrange my
business for the next day. All was still, except now and then a
slight movement in the next chamber, where the parents were sitting
up with their sick child.

"What did you give him last?" I heard the father say, in a low, but
distinct tone.

"Aconite," was as distinctly replied.

This I knew to be a deadly poison. I listened, you may be sure, with
a more earnest attention.

"How many grains?" was next asked.

"Two," replied the mother.

Two grains of aconite! My hair began to rise. "I think we had better
increase the dose to five grains."

Horrible!

"It's an hour since he took the last, and I see no change," said the
mother. "Perhaps we had better try the arsenic."

My blood ran cold at this murderous proposition. I felt like
starting up, bursting open the door, and confronting them in their
dreadful work. But, as if spell-bound, I remained where I was. To
the last proposition, the man replied--"I would rather see the
aconite tried in a larger dose. If, in half an hour, there is no
visible effect from it, then we will resort to the arsenic."

"If you think it best," said the mother, in a low sad voice--(well
she might be sad over such awful work)--"let us try the aconite
again, but in a larger dose. You will find it on the mantelpiece."

I heard the deliberate tread of the man, as he crossed the room for
a larger dose of the poison, while I hurriedly deliberated the
question of what I should do. Before I could make up my mind to act,
I heard his returning step. A few moments of awful stillness
succeeded. I felt as if I were in the centre of a sphere, with the
gravitating forces from every point of the circumference upon me. I
don't think I could have moved a limb to save my life.

"There; let us see what they will do," came distinctly upon my ear.

Gracious Heaven! the deed was done. Five grains of aconite given to
the tender child, already on the verge of death! The cold sweat came
out over my whole body, and stood in clammy drops upon my forehead.
All was still. Death was doing his aw